Project
by Srivastra
Summary: Stuck together for an English Assignment Wendy and Kenny struggle to finish it amidst the everyday problems faced by South Park denizens; Alien Invasions, Riots, Panty Raids, Demons, House Parties, and an AP Teacher Hell bent on seeing them fail.


He came to consciousness as he often did; the world slowly fading into vague color for a moment before everything suddenly and abruptly focused.

That part always gave him a minor headache.

"-dy?" Kenny asked, his ears popping and throwing his world into a sudden, violent torrent of ringing. He blinked a few times and rolled his tongue around in his mouth -while most people bitched about morning breath, he could honestly say that post-mortem breath was the absolute worst.

She jerked upward at the sound of his voice, head snapping up from being propped on her hand. "Whad uhr yew do-ing herya?" He asked; face contorting slightly as he forced himself to speak -his tongue felt about as flexible as a lead weight. Wendy's eyebrows pressed together slightly and an expression of annoyance came over her face.

"We're English partners, remember?" She spoke as if it were a complete travesty that he had forgotten. But really… between fending off a horde of inbred tentacle aliens intent on taking over the school with tampon cannons and dieing on a raid of the girls locker room with the underpants gnomes - the events were unrelated- he was amused that she was offended by his inability to remember their project.

With a grunt he shoved himself into a sitting position and was even more amused when Wendy 'eeped', blushed a bit, and adverted her gaze as the blanket Joseph -the town mortician- placed over his corpse slid down to reveal his bare chest.

And considering he was still nude, and scrubbed clean, Anna-Marie -the diener- must have already washed his body.

"Whad? Ah you a birgin?" Kenny asked with a rather suggestive smirk, tugging the blanket pooled in his lap downward as if to flash her as she turned back around to glare at him. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the blanket moving lower, the blush deepened, and she stared steadfastly at the textbook in her lap.

"Where are your clothes?" Her voice was pitched higher than usual and it did nothing but stroke Kenny's ego in a very agreeable manner.

"I'll geb 'em." he said and Wendy _leapt _from her seat as if an electric current had run through the folding chair and shocked her ass.

"NO." Her face flushed a darker shade and she rushed forward as he turned and placed his feet on the floor, her hands flying out and landing in death grips on his shoulders. "Tell me where they are and I will get them." It was rather cute that she could still use her 'scary, authoritative' voice while acting so frantic and blushing so much about his nudity.

Especially considering he had seen what kind of underwear she wore - the word 'Mrow' made an excellent adjective.

"Morticians desk." Kenny leaned forward in a slow manner, his eyes closed halfway and he tilted his head slightly as if he were moving in to kiss her. Wendy's breathing hitched and she immediately turned on her heel and made her way hastily to the aforementioned desk. Needless to say, his eyes were trained on her ass and appreciating the skirt she was wearing immensely.

Kenny's gaze shifted absently to the clock and he could not help but quirk an eyebrow. It was almost four in the morning, he had died around two p.m or so at school -and figured that Larry the janitor had found him because he was the only one that still took him to the morgue instead of just throwing him in the dumpster.

"How long have you been here?" He asked licking his bottom lip. The oddness of the situation had just struck him. _Nobody_ had _ever _hung around for his corpse to regenerate -granted sometimes there was no corpse to wait for, although… well she _was _an anal retentive nerd -with _hot_ underwear, why was it always the nerdy ones?- and they _were_ project partners…

"Awhile." She said walking back towards him with his clothes; freshly cleaned because Anna-Marie had a Jewish mother complex and always ended up giving him a good scrub down as well as running his clothes through a washer every time he ended up in the morgues after hour depository slot. Lazy bastards couldn't even bring him in and fill out the paper work. However, with the frequency in which he ended up there it wasn't that big of a deal… not really.

He caught his pants as they hit his face, his shirt hit the floor and the blanket slid away as he leaned down to get it, forgetting that the sheet had been the only thing covering up his nudity.

And really, that was unintentional so Wendy's scream of 'Oh my God!' was -he thought- unnecessary, as he was kind enough to hold his pants over his junk so she didn't actually _see_ anything. Though, to be perfectly honest, _every _girl her age should be acquainted with a penis. Or at least that was his thought on the matter. But regardless of the initial intention or the lack of her seeing anything interesting she still hurled a canister filled with sharp medical instruments at him and he -by some minor miracle- wasn't hit and sub-sequentially killed.

"Hey you psycho bitch don't throw fucking knives at me!" Kenny snapped as he straightened out and gestured angrily at her with his shirt -his dick was still covered by his trousers however as he did not need to give her any more reasons to throw shit at him.

"Just get dressed!" Wendy snapped pointedly looking him in the eye. "I'll wait for you outside!" She huffed looking anywhere _but_ at him as she knelt down to gather her fallen textbook and backpack. "And _don't_-" Her voice returned to that authoritative tone that seemed so at odds with the light blush on her cheeks as her gaze made a swift bee line up his body and remained on his face. "Even _think_ of sneaking off. We've already wasted enough time." He cocked an eyebrow at her retreating back, no one had ever _really _cared when he died but fuck… it wasn't as if he could control how long he was dead for.

_Good Lord…_ Wendy hugged the textbook tightly against her chest. She had not been expecting… _that_. Though Bebe had been quite correct in her observations of the general male populace around them.

"_Mmmm…" Bebe said with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on her face. Wendy glanced up from her grammar book and followed Bebe's line of sight to a bunch of shirtless football players tossing a Frisbee back and forth._

"_Must you constantly think with your libido?" Wendy quipped as she joined in on surveying the bare torsos prancing about the courtyard._

"_Libido nothin' honey. I'm just surveying some potential." Bebe said, the grin narrowing slightly and turning playful as she tweaked an errant lock of Wendy's hair. "And I must say Mr. Black and Mr. McCormick are prime candidates. Mm MM!" Wendy scoffed, casting an uninterested eye at the boys Bebe had selected from the herd before returning to her book._

"_How nice."_

"_Oh come on Wendy! You've got the sex drive of a rock!" At that she looked incredulously at her friend._

"_And what," She snapped out each word icily. "Does that have to do with _you?"_ There was a moment of silence between the girls before a slow, wicked grin spread across Bebe's face._

She couldn't help but think that _maybe _Bebe had somehow planned it all out… After all, it was the blonde girl whom had killed 'Mr. McCormick' in the locker room. While she had _some_ doubts about Bebe being cunning enough to pull something off she had to admit that if the mood struck her or the thought tantalized her enough then the girl _could _be just as diabolical as herself and Cartman.

The door to the Mortuary banged open and promptly closed, as her English partner emerged fully clothed -thank God. Though 'fully' was a loose term considering he was only wearing a pair of faded, ripped jeans that were too big for him and riding low with no belt, showing off his lack of underwear and a short sleeved Denver Broncos jersey that looked too small and too tight.

"So what's the plan chief?" He asked hobbling oddly down the concrete steps and stretching his back outin an almost feline manner once he hit the sidewalk, popping what sounded like every joint in his body.

"Well," She pulled her planner out and flipped to the page that she had dog-eared. "If we want to stay on schedule then we better start working now." Wendy bit her lip, Kenny's demise had thrown the schedule off quite a bit, they'd definitely have to work through the remainder of the night if they wanted to come even vaguely _close _to getting back on track. "Come on." Without even looking at him she began walking towards her house -the thought that perhaps his home would be closer never occurred to her.

Not that she would want to go there even if it _was._

"Hey nice place." Kenny said giving a low whistle once they were inside. "You guys win the lottery or something?"

"No. My Mom figured out how to milk a divorce to the fullest extent of my dad's wallet. She's working on my ex-stepfather now." Wendy said with a flippant air, tossing her keys onto a table by the door. Kenny 'Hmmed' and followed her towards the cavernous kitchen. "Are you hungry?" She asked setting her book bag down by the table and moving to the stainless steel refrigerator.

"Always." He sidled up behind her to get an idea of what there was to eat. Never before had he seen so many cartons of Chinese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, and Italian food, all stacked and labeled with the date it had been put in the fridge as well as the contents. "Damn… do you order out I_every_/I night?" Kenny reached around her, lightly pressing his chest against her shoulder blades as he pulled out a Styrofoam container dated for last Tuesday containing chicken-cheese enchiladas, rice, and beans. It was kind of funny the way Wendy had stiffened up at his proximity; he hadn't touched her anywhere that could be considered 'naughty', even by Mormon standards, but he backed up several steps to give her back her 'personal space'.

"My mom's away on 'business'." Wendy's tone was stilted and Kenny couldn't tell if it was him or 'business' that had her more flustered. "And I don't like cooking."

"Ah. Got anything to drink? He asked, popping open the container and scooping up some rice with his fingers.

"Catch." He looked up in time to dodge a can of soda-pop that would have otherwise knocked him through the sliding glass door. With a disgruntled noise, he picked up the now dented can.

"_Zoop Super-Caff Cola. Now with five percent less than the lethal limit of caffeine!" _He looked up at Wendy, who had already chugged her can and tossed it into the trashcan. "I think I'll pass on this." Kenny stated setting the can on the counter. "With my luck this can'll have the exact lethal amount of caffeine in it."

"Coffee then?" She asked taking the food from him and popping it in the microwave.

"Don't drink it."

"Well how the Hell do you expect to stay awake while we work?" She snapped; the caffeine had apparently kicked in as her foot was tapping out a speedy rhythm on the tile and she had developed a strange tick in her eye that reminded him of Tweek.

"Keep feeding me and I'll stay up." Honestly, he would have been able to stay up without the food, death was closer to sleeping than most people ever realized and he was always very well rested. But Hell… if he had to spend however many hours he had until they had to go back to school working on a stupid assignment then he was gonna get all the free food he could out of it. Fuck knows when he'd eat this well again.

She looked at him skeptically -foot still tapping sporadically against the floor- and shrugged.

"Whatever. Help yourself to the pantry too then."

"WooHoo!" Needing no encouragement Kenny bounded over to her pantry and immediately began rooting through it, throwing fruit snacks, cookies, popcorn bags, beef jerky, more cookies, potato chips, French onion dip, peanuts, even more cookies, marshmallows, candy bars and cheesy poofs onto the counter behind him.

"When was that last time you ate?" Wendy asked as he emerged from the pantry with a bag of M&M's she didn't even know was in there.

"Three or four days ago. I lost track." Kenny said as he tossed the bag onto the counter with the rest of his snack collection and took his enchiladas out of the microwave. "Poor ." He gestured at himself by way of explanation then shoved half of an enchilada in his mouth with his hand.

"Just tell your mom to get a divorce and marry a rich man." Wendy said with a touch of bitterness as she dumped her book-bag out on the kitchen table.

"Pff." He snorted, almost choking on his food but managing to swallow it. "They may fight a lot but she loves him for some reason."

"I think my mom's mistaken money for love." Wendy muttered under her breath as she began organizing the papers and folders on the table. "I've re-typed Mrs. Ritter's syllabus for this assignment into an easier to read format and eliminated all the waffling bullshit she likes to put in to throw everybody off track." She handed him a single piece of paper that managed to sum up Mrs. Ritter's seven-page assignment into six bullet points:

-Rough draft and final script for a ten minute, two-person play.

-Full color storyboard of play.

-Play centered on a single theme.

-Fifty vocabulary words from the script, defined and used in a coherent sentence different from how it was used in the play.

-Use of five props.

-Scale model of stage with props and characters representing the climax of the play.

"What the fuck?" We only have a week to do _all _of this?!" Advanced placement classes were a _bitch. _But without them he wouldn't get any decent scholarships and then he'd never be able to afford college and there was no way in _Hell_ he was going to live as his parents did.

"Exactly. And there is no way in _Hell _I'm gonna let this bitch give me another B." She seethed sitting in the dining chair that looked like it cost more than everything in Kenny's room and began organizing all of her papers. Wendy -Kenny had observed since almost the first day of class- hated Mrs. Ritter in a way she had never hated Ms. Ellen, Wendy wanted to _impress_ Mrs. Ritter in a 'fuck you I am good enough' sort of way. "Come on, we've got a lot to do and not much time to do it in." Throwing out the empty Styrofoam container that he'd licked clean Kenny grabbed the snacks he'd piled up off of the counter in two big armfuls and dumped them onto the table, taking a seat next to Wendy. "Right. First things first, we need a theme…"

"Deborths." He mumbled out through a mouthful of marshmallow; Wendy quirked her head to one side, pencil eraser tapping against her bottom lip as she thought it over.

"Well… we'd have to start off with a marriage in turmoil… and maybe make the end of it the decision to get a divorce… Mrs. Ritter's a sucker for bitter endings." Kenny nodded in agreement and Wendy scribbled their thoughts down on the paper.

Come seven-thirty a.m they had a rough draft that -Kenny thought anyway- was better and deeper than any of the plays that the high school theatre had ever done. '_Who Stepped In Poo?' _Being the latest in a string of musical murder mysteries based off of Mr. Hanky's life.

"Here." She tossed a t-shirt and a pair of pants that belonged to her stepfather at Kenny and retreated into her room to get dressed, leaving him alone in the hallway. After expressing the fact that he wouldn't have time to go home and get changed Wendy had been kind enough to dig through her parents closet and had found some things that fit him surprisingly well. "You decent?" She called from behind her bedroom door.

"Hope not." He said zipping up his fly and buttoning it. "What fun is that?" With a sarcastic 'ha ha' Wendy emerged from her room in a white button up blouse and a pair of jean Capri's.

"Let's go, it's a ten minute walk to school."

"So…" Bebe all but purred leaning on the locker next to Wendy. "Word around the campfire is _you_ and Mr. McCormick walked to school together…" Wendy rolled her eyes and shut her locker loudly.

"And?"

"His house is like… twenty minutes the opposite direction and I know neither of you have a license or a car."

"_And?_" Wendy was quickly losing patience with her friend.

"And he like totally slept over at your house didn't he?!" She spoke rapidly with excitement, all but bouncing on her feet.

"We didn't sleep-" Bebe screamed with delight and threw her arms around Wendy's shoulders.

"I'm so proud of you!"

"We worked on our English assignment all night." Wendy had to shout over Bebe's rejoicing, which immediately stopped.

"_What?!_ Wendy you suck."

"No, I did not." She stated quite plainly as she readjusted her backpack and they began walking towards their first class of the day.

"Oh. Oh that wit. Well, why _didn't _you do anything? From what I've heard there's a one hundred percent satisfaction guarantee with him." Bebe stated quite frankly as she dug briefly through her purse and pulled out a tube of lip balm.

"Bebe," Wendy began in exasperation, glancing sideways at her childhood friend. "I don't want to have sex for the sake of just _having _sex, I want it to mean something. You know, be in a committed relationship with someone that I care about and who cares about me. Understand?"

"He'd care about you all night long." Bebe murmured, swiping the chapstick over her lips then smacking them. Rolling her eyes Wendy threw her hands up in defeat.

"No, he'd care about my vagina," At her loud declaration of 'vagina' several teens and a perverted teacher or two immediately perked to attention. "The rest of our project would be awkward and then we'd never talk again. That's not what I want, I mean what if I get attached to him?" It was Bebe's turn to roll her eyes.

"Wendy, not every girl gets attached to the guy they lose their virginity to." At that Wendy gave her friend a flat, exasperated look. "Okay… so given your track record with relationships there _is _a good chance you would… and that it'd turn into a '_Fatal Attraction' _type of thing."

"Do we really need to discuss my sex life?" Wendy asked, in a defeated tone.

"Don't you mean 'lack of'?" Bebe asked throwing a saucy wink at one of the basketball players as they passed by. Her eyes narrowed and Bebe held up her hands in defense. "Hey ease up on the Death Glare." That didn't help. "How about a shiny new change of topic?" Bebe suggested, a smile crossing her lips.

"God _anything _that doesn't have to do with my vagina would be welcome."

"Good. Let's talk about _my _vagina." The Blonde declared as they walked into the classroom, causing everyone already present to cease their conversations in favor of what Bebe was apparently going to talk about.

"…I stand corrected."


End file.
